


Too Old For This Ish

by wildlyricalair



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlyricalair/pseuds/wildlyricalair
Summary: “And what, exactly, do we do with a recently-awakened, still-not-entirely-mentally-stable ex-Soviet assassin?” Stark flips a pen between his fingers.“He’ll be my partner,” Cap says; his tone brooks no argument.“Mm, nope. Not loving that,” Stark replies quickly. Steve flashes him a sharp look and rises halfway out of his chair.Barton's phone rings, startling five pairs of eyes into staring at him as he fumbles to silence it. “Sorry. It’s just Kate. Oh! Kate! She can be Barnes’ partner!”-------Clint and Steve have pseudo-Avenger friends who need to be kept busy without being let loose; Kate and Bucky have chips on their shoulders and something to prove. Why not throw 'em together? What could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! So this is something I've been working on for quite some time; it's about halfway written but I wanted to get the beginning of it up before Black Panther and Infinity War come out and totally blow giant holes in my setup. I want Kate in the MCU real bad, so I'm just gonna stick her in there myself. This picks up sometime after Civil War; I'm sort of melding it with the Fraction Hawkeye comics and sticking Clint in some sort of illegal housing situation in Bed-Stuy so he can stay under the radar now that he's a fugitive. Hope you all enjoy, and please leave feedback, it means so much to me!! Thank you for reading!!!

Three ex-Avengers, one genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, and two former heads of S.H.I.E.L.D. sit around a Wakandan conference table, heads bent, speaking in low voices.

“He’ll be awake soon. T’Challa’s fairly confident his chance of relapse will be slim,” Maria Hill murmurs.

Steve nods. “Good. The sooner we can get him back home and into society again, the better.”

“And what, exactly, do we do with a recently-awakened, still-not-entirely-mentally-stable ex-Soviet assassin?” Stark flips a pen between his fingers.

“He’ll be my partner,” Cap says; his tone brooks no argument.

“Mm, nope. Not loving that,” Stark replies quickly. Steve flashes him a sharp look and rises halfway out of his chair.

Hill exchanges glances with Fury. “Sure, you’ll work together. For certain missions. But we don’t need him on anything top-secret just yet. And we don’t want you working with him on anything that might tempt you to compromise the mission on his account.”

Steve opens his mouth to retort, but Fury’s authoritative, “Which you would definitely do,” stops him short.

Tony chimes in. “I mean honestly, Cap, if he got hurt, had a relapse, had to pee at an inopportune moment, you know you’d drop everything to make sure he was okay. At the very least.”

“And that’s what makes you such a great friend and teammate,” Hill counters, tone soothing and yet still matter-of-fact, “But it also makes you and him as a team something of a liability.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Understatement.”

“You got something to say, Tony, say it,” Steve’s voice is low, firm, barely covering the anger simmering just beneath the surface.  

 _Anything you can do I can do better_  
I can do anything better than you  
No you can’t  
Yes I can  
No you can’t – 

Barton fumbles in his pocket and silences his phone as five pairs of eyes turn to stare at him. “Sorry. It’s just Kate. Oh! Kate! She can be Barnes’ partner!”

All five pairs of eyebrows facing his direction begin to crease downwards, and Clint scrambles to make his argument. “Kate’s been begging me for an in with the Avengers, and this would definitely make her feel like she’s got a foot in the door. She works low-level street crime most of the time, when she’s not running stuff to Iowa and the family for me, so it’d tie up Barnes’ time without giving him any  information you don’t want to trust him with, and then when you want a couple of expert marksmen for a mission, you’ve got them. Barnes needs a conscience and a little help acclimatizing to full consciousness in the modern world, Kate needs training and a little toughening up, and I need someone to keep an eye on her when I’m out of town. It’s a perfect solution!”

Fury’s face relaxes slightly as he considers Clint’s suggestion. “Actually… That might solve a few problems all in one.”

“She’s a kid,” Steve protests, then shoots Clint a glare. “And Bucky’s got a conscience.”

“She’s young, yeah, but she’s as good as I am,” Clint shrugs.

“Maybe better,” Natasha agrees. “Especially in the hand-to-hand stuff.”

“Don’t tell her that, though,” Clint adds.

“Hand stuff, eh?” Tony jibes. Everyone ignores him.

Natasha’s expression turns thoughtful. “It could be good, you know. Keep both of them in the fold. Use ‘em when you need ‘em, let ‘em train and take out street thugs when you don’t. I think Clint may be on to something.”

Maria Hill is already tapping on her tablet, presumably sending memos and setting the wheels in motion. “We’ll try it on a trial basis. See how they work together. It’ll be interesting, if nothing else.”

“Aw,” Stark grins. “Cap’s pet and Hawkeye’s pet, teaming up and fighting crime. This is precious. Do you feel like proud parents? Because I kinda do.”

Rogers and Barton both turn to glare at Tony and say at the same time, “Not my pet.”

“And anyways, you’re one to talk, with your little Itsy-Bitsy Spider-Kid,” Clint adds testily. “Who, I might add, runs around with Kate stopping convenience store hold-ups and muggings in his spare time, so I think we can say my asset is at least as valuable as yours, if not more so for not still being a minor.”

The door to the conference room cracks open and King T’Challa steps inside. “He’s awake.”

Steve gets to his feet and heads for the door. “Great. I’d like to see him.”

Hill stands and prepares to follow them, tapping on her tablet. “Transport will be ready in an hour. We’ve got quarters ready for Barnes. We’ll have eyes on him at all times.” She turns to Clint. “We’ll want Kate to file reports on a regular basis, make sure he’s stable. Can you brief her once we get back?”

“Sure can,” Clint nods. Hill turns to go, and he speaks up, “Hey.” She turns back and looks at him expectantly. “I’ve kinda been using Kate to keep in touch with my family, take things to ‘em. Money and letters. She brings me drawings and stuff. If she’s babysitting Barnes, though…”

Understanding flits across Maria’s face, and she nods, smiling a bit sadly. “We’ll take care of it.”

Clint grins. “Thanks, Hill. Appreciate it.”

 

* * *

 

Kate stares dubiously at Clint and cocks one eyebrow. “You’re pairing me up… with Bucky Barnes?”  She nocks an arrow and draws the bowstring tight against her cheek. Her finger twitches, and the arrow strikes the target dead center with a twang. Bucky Barnes… the Legendary Winter Soldier. Captain America’s best friend or secret lover or something along those lines. The world still doesn’t like that guy, the Avengers (or whatever they are now) still don’t totally trust him, and if they’re pairing her up with him, that’s gotta either mean they really like her or they _really_ don’t. She’s just gonna assume it’s the former.

“Yep,” Clint looks smug as he turns his gaze to Kate and rapid-fires three arrows into three separate targets without breaking eye contact with her. “This way I can stay under the radar and run missions for Fury with Wanda or Lang or whoever and you can stick around here and keep training and beating the shit out of tracksuit mafia types and then eventually start going on real missions.”

Aha. He’s just trying to pawn her training off on someone else. So what, this is basically just her getting a new babysitter? Gross. Or _maybe_ … maybe she’s being promoted to the babysitting role herself! …Which is also not a particularly appealing thought, when put that way.

“What is my role in this partnership, exactly?” Kate wants to know, tucking three arrows between her fingers and nocking them all at once. “Am I babysitting him? Is he babysitting me? Am I supposed to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t go all, ‘Winter Soldier’ again? Is he training me?” She draws, releases, and hits the same targets as Clint just did, dead center, their arrows tucked up snugly right against each other. She turns to smirk at him. “Also, does this make me an Avenger?”

“Pretty much,” Clint nods. “There’s no babysitting involved, not really. You’re both highly-skilled individuals that SHIELD would like to have around and available to us, but because of reasons they’re not ready to bring you fully into the fold yet. You’ll train together, and yeah, he’s got more experience than you, so he’ll probably be doing what he can to train you up a little more, but you’ll be a team. He won’t be your handler or your boss or whatever. They mostly want you to keep doing what you’re doing, but with Bucky instead of me.” He hesitates, then adds quickly, “Aaand also make sure he doesn’t go all ‘Winter Soldier’ again and file regular reports stating that his mental state is static.”

“I knew it! I’m a goddamn babysitter!”

Clint holds his hands up in half-acquiescence. “You’re babysitting, but they’ll give you missions and you’ll get to keep training with someone who’ll have different methods and can make you even better. Someday you may even be able to kick my ass.”

She snorts. “I can already kick your ass, Dummy.” But she chews on her lip thoughtfully, then asks, “Do I get an Avengers ID Card?”

“I said pretty much, not yes.”

Kate squints at him, frowning slightly, then draws one last arrow and sends it flying, splitting the first of Clint’s arrows neatly down the middle. “Fine. But I’m not filling out mountains of paperwork every week just so Captain America can know his boyfriend is still sane.”

Clint nods. “Paperwork on this side of the Avengers is kinda a thing of the past anyways. We’re unofficial and unsanctioned. You’ll probably just check in over the phone. Answer a few questions about how Barnes is acting.” He grins and winks at her. “Glad you’re on board with this, Katie-Kate. It’s gonna be great.”

She nods, pauses, then frowns. “But… what about Laura and the kids? If I’m working with Barnes, I won’t be able to check in on them for you. I don’t wear a mask. It’s just me out there. They’ll know I have connections with the Avengers – the secret, fugitive from the law ones. That I might know how to find you. It wouldn’t be safe for me to swing by the farm, drop off letters and stuff.”

Clint nods. “Already took care of it. Hill’s working on it for me.”

“Right, because she doesn’t have enough to do,” Kate snorts.

He shakes his head at her. “You wanted a real job, an in with the team, and we needed to partner someone with Barnes. We need you here, Katie-Kate. You’re taking Barnes off Hill’s plate and give her a much simpler problem like finding someone to drop checks in the mailbox at the farm. Trust me. It’s better this way,” he turns to go.

“Alright... If you’re sure.” She drops her bow and heads toward the targets to collect the arrows.

“Of course I’m sure,” Clint calls back, “It was my idea.”

Kate grins to herself and twirls an arrow between her fingers. “The goddamn Winter Soldier,” she muses. “Oh, this is gonna be _awesome_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kate paces back and forth on the curb, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her bow and quiver slung over the other. A couple of minutes later, a sleek black sedan pulls up to the curb; the passenger-side window rolls down and Kate sees a pair of sunglasses framed by dark hair and a baseball cap looking back at her. “You Bishop?”

She nods. “Kate. You aware that you’re late, partner?” She pulls the back door open and tosses her bags in, but hangs on to her bow and quiver.

He glances at the dashboard clock. “Eight minutes. So what?”

“So we’ve got a plane to catch,” Kate slides into the passenger seat and purses her lips at Barnes. Jeez, he’s a mess. He’s got an apartment. And a shower, presumably. And yet here he is, hair messy and just covered with a hat, unshaven, scruff covering the lower half of his face, surrounding a very soft-looking, very kissable – oh cripes, Kate White Shark, don’t even go there – set of lips. _And that’s the last she ever thought of his lips_ , she thinks firmly to herself. _He’s late and he obviously wasn’t spending the time combing his hair. That’s the important thing at this moment._

He shrugs. “We’re its entire passenger manifest. It’s not taking off without us.”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t press the subject. They pull into traffic, and after a moment or two of silence, Kate reaches for the radio, twisting the volume dial up to half of its full capability. “So,” she begins punching through channels. “Bucky futzing Barnes. You’re kind of a big deal, you know? But it’s okay. So am I. We’re gonna get along great, I can tell.”

He doesn’t answer, just turns the radio down to a low volume. Kate raises an eyebrow. “What are you, my dad? I can’t even hear that!” She reaches over to turn it up again.

A muscle jerks in Barnes’ jaw, but he doesn’t say anything. Kate punches through a few more stations, until a familiar beat pumps through the speakers and a slow grin spreads across her face. She reaches over and turns the volume up even more as she grins at Barnes and begins to rap along with the song:

 _Here I go, here I go, here I go again_  
Girls, what’s my weakness?   
Men! 

As the chorus begins, Kate grins at her new partner. “This is a great song. Wade Wilson likes this song. Deadpool? Have you heard about him yet?”

Barnes frowns. “Steve doesn’t like him.”

Kate snorts. “That’s not surprising. Clint’s not really a fan, either. We worked with him once, and it didn’t go well. I mean, we saved the world, or whatever. But Clint got brainwashed and beat the shit out of us, the first time I saw Wade’s face I thought it was a Freddy Krueger mask, at one point I stabbed him in the chest with a pretty sizeable knife and then later I shot an RPG – which was actually kinda awesome – and Wade’s Ooper account got suspended. So long story short, we don’t work with him anymore. Clint wanted a restraining order, but I kinda like the guy.”

Barnes purses his lips. “Not sure what that says about you, Miss Bishop.”

Kate makes a disgusted face. “Kate. Please. Anyways, what it says is, I’ll put up with a lot of shit to make sure the job gets done, and also that I work well with morally ambiguous characters like Deadpool. Or Hawkeye, if the stories about how he got started are true.”

“Or the Winter Soldier?” Barnes mutters, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

Kate shrugs. “Maybe. Although to hear Steve talk there’s jack shit that’s morally ambiguous about you, Sergeant Barnes. I hear the Winter Soldier’s out of commission. King T’Challa seems to think you won’t be a danger to anyone you’re not supposed to be a danger to. So, you know. Maybe you should pick a new name.”

Barnes glances over at her and raises one eyebrow. “A new name? Like what?”

Kate thinks for a moment. “Captain America, Jr.? Sergeant America. Red Peril. Sergeant Cyborg. Captain Haircut.”

Bucky lets out a harsh chuckle. “Thanks. I’ll take those under advisement.”

She squints at him. “That’s code for, ‘Fuck you Kate, I’m keeping the name,’ and we both know it.”

The corners of his mouth twitch upward for a moment, but he doesn’t reply. Kate grins. “That’s okay. It’s a cool name. I wouldn’t change it either.”

“Not even to Captain Haircut?”

“Well, I’m thinking you’d have to actually get a haircut first. Maybe even shave before you could take on the legendary name of Captain Haircut.”

The song fades out and Kate begins flipping through channels again; Barnes shakes his head. “I’ve got too much on my plate to worry about getting my hair cut.”

Kate nods. “Working a lot lately?”

“Yeah. Just got assigned a new partner. I hear she’s a pain in the ass.”

Kate laughs, delighted to find that the Winter Soldier actually might some sort of sense of humor. This might not be as bad as she’d thought it might be. “I’ve heard that too, actually.”

They pull into the airport and gather their bags; the pilot opens his mouth to comment on their lateness, but one fierce look from Barnes and he snaps his jaw shut again. Kate raises her eyebrows at Barnes’ back, impressed. She needs a look like that.

Once they’re in the air, Barnes hands her a file. “Mission’s in here. May wanna take a look before we land.”

Kate takes the file and flips it open. “Ooh. So official. You wanna sit, go over it together?” She pats the seat next to her.

Barnes shakes his head. “I’ll read through it on my own first. We can go over the plan when we land.” He moves away to the front of the plane and takes a seat right behind the cockpit.

Kate watches him go, eyebrows tilting downward as her teeth dart out to chew on her bottom lip. “Alrighty then,” she mumbles to herself, dropping her eyes to the file in her hand and slouching down in her chair, settling in for a long flight.

* * *

The flight is uneventful, as is landing, procuring their car, and checking into their hotel. Their rooms are next door to each other with a shared balcony. Fifteen minutes after they’re checked in, Barnes knocks on the balcony door and Kate lets him in. “Hi. All settled in?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.” He motions to the file Kate’s got open on the foot of her bed and asks, “So, any thoughts?”

“Whoa. Right down to business. You ain’t messing around, huh?” Kate picks up the folder and gives it another quick look, clicking her tongue as she skims. Bucky waits with her arms crossed, flesh-and-bone fingers tapping against the metal of his mechanical arm. After a minute or two, she tosses the file down again. “Should be simple. Basic information grab. In and out in five minutes.”

“Should be,” Barnes frowns, tucking a cigarette between his teeth and producing a match from his pocket, which he strikes on his metal thumb. As he holds the flame up to the end of the cigarette, he observes, “It’s never as simple as it looks, though. Here’s the security info. We need to get the timing just right. Memorize this,” he drops a packet of security details on top of the folder and breathes a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth.

Kate grimaces. “Ew, really? You know how bad that is for you? I mean, I know it was cool in the Forties, but now it’s kinda gross.”

Barnes glares at her, but stands and moves toward the balcony door, muttering under his breath in Russian. Just before he steps outside, he turns and orders, “Work on memorizing those security details.”

“I’ll have ‘em by the time you finish your cancer stick. Slight work,” Kate calls back, “for an easy mission.”

He rolls his eyes. “Trust me. It won’t be as easy as it looks now.” 

* * *

Kate kicks her feet up onto the dashboard of the rickety old Rover, twirling her USB arrow smugly between her fingers. “See? I told you. Slight work. No need for your pessimism here, Sarge.”

Barnes keeps his eyes fixed on the road, although Kate sees a muscle jerk in his jaw. “It’s not over until we’re in the air.”

“Good god. You must be fun at parties,” Kate snorts.

“Don’t get invited to many of those,” he replies, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

“Oh, I do,” Kate follows his gaze, checking to see if they’ve got any sort of tail. They’re still clear, just as they have been all day. “You should come to one sometime. Get all dressed up. Do that glare so people don’t talk to me. It could be fun.”

One corner of his mouth twitches upward and he huffs out a laugh. “So I’d be your bodyguard.”

Kate chuckles. “Well you’d be allowed to drink and dance, eat all the hors d’oeuvres you want. You’d be my plus-one – “ Kate lets out a startled shriek as a loud THUNK cuts her off and the SUV jerks to the side.

Bucky swears loudly and yanks the wheel to correct the direction of the car, slamming his foot down onto the gas and gunning the engine forward. Kate whirls around in her seat, searching behind them, but she doesn’t see a vehicle near enough to have been the cause of the hit. “There’s no one back there, Barnes,” she informs him, grabbing her bow and lowering the window. She sticks her head out, teeth jittering with the jolting of the vehicle, and searches behind them. Still nothing. She drops her gaze downward and has a flash of realization; she pulls her head back inside the car – “Ow, shit!” – cursing as the car jerks and causes her to slam her head against the top of the window. “Pull over!”

Barnes gives her a look that pretty clearly says he thinks she’s crazy. “What?”

“Pull over! It’s a flat!” She yells over the rushing of wind outside the open window. “There’s no one fucking back there! Pull the damn car over!”

Skeptical as he seems, Barnes eases on the brakes and pulls off to the side of the road. “Flashers,” Kate motions to the button for the emergency flashers, then unlocks her door and gets out of the car, rubbing the back of her head gingerly. She stands and waits for Barnes to turn the car off and join her on the passenger side of the vehicle, where she kicks the metal rim of the tire and the shreds of rubber hanging off of it. “It’s just a flat. No one’s after us.”

Barnes’ brows furrow as he stares at the tire, seemingly at a loss for words. He looks so puzzled that Kate almost laughs; that is, until he shakes his head and mutters, “Told you. Something always goes wrong.”

Kate rolls her eyes and snarks, “Honestly, Sarge, on the sliding scale of disasters that could happen on a mission, getting a flat tire is like, all the way at the far end of the ‘Really not that big of a deal’ side, if you ask me.”

“Bucky,” he sighs. “If you’re Kate, I’m Bucky.”

Kate nods and waves him off. “Great. Bucky it is. So should we grab the spare, or… do you have Triple A?” He frowns at her, confused, and she shakes her head. “Never mind. It’s an auto service, or whatever. I have it. So if I break down anywhere I call them and they’ll come get me and tow the car or change the tire or whatever it is I need.”

“Sounds handy,” Bucky says.

“It isn’t when you’re in fucking South Africa,” Kate sighs. “So. Let’s change this sucker.”

Bucky shakes his head and motions to the Rover’s back door, and the empty space usually occupied by the spare tire. “No spare. We’ll have to walk. It’s only about three miles from here.”

Kate’s jaw falls open as if she’s about to argue, but then she snaps it shut and sucks her lips into an irritated pucker. “Oookay. Let’s walk.” She hoists her bow and quiver over one shoulder, then yanks open the trunk and swings her duffel bag over the other. “I mean, you’d think the mother-futzing Avengers could at least get us a car with a spare, but nooooo.” She begins walking along the side of the road as Bucky collects his things and starts after her. Kate keeps muttering to herself, “I mean, we’re only in the middle of South Fucking Africa, where it’s eight million degrees at twelve in the afternoon and only getting hotter. It’s fine though, we’ll just walk three miles in the burning sun, lugging all our equipment with us, and rendezvous with our pilot who gets to sit and wait for us in an air-conditioned airport until we show up. Whatever. No biggie.”

Bucky moves along silently behind her, biting back a grin at his partner’s consternation. She’s right, though. It’s only a flat. He’d been anticipating a much worse snafu than this, so he’s not particularly troubled. He watches the back of Kate’s head as they walk and can’t help but think that he’d also been expecting a much worse partner than this when he’d been assigned some young tagalong that Barton seems to be trying to get rid of, so all in all, not only is he not upset, he’s actually thinking he might be able to make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

“So,” Clint leans against the back of Kate’s armchair and singsongs, “How’s it going?”

Kate glances up at him and throws herself backward on the couch. “Oh my GAAAWWWWD he’s got so much angst. How can anyone be _that_ serious and live with _that_ much emotional turmoil? Isn’t it exhausting? It’s exhausting to me, that’s for damn sure.” She sits up and looks up at him wearily. “Also, the guy barely talks. Just sits there, all quiet, all the time. It’s futzing weird, Clint.”

Clint shrugs, tossing a box of pizza down on the coffee table for Kate. “It’s not _that_ weird. You’re just used to me.” He grabs an arrow out of the quiver sitting on the armchair and twirls it in his fingers.

She snorts. “That may be true. God knows you never shut up.” She grabs a slice, takes a bite, then tosses it back down onto the lid of the box, reaching for the end table and snagging a bottle of nail polish. Purple, obviously, because this way she’s matching at all times. Purple is so versatile, she muses to herself. You can literally pair any shade of purple with any other shade of purple and never look clashy.

Clint watches her for a moment, then asks, “But he seems… sane, right? He didn’t do anything too… Sirhan Sirhan-y?”

Kate snorts. “I mean, as far as I can tell he didn’t lose any time, and at no point did he attempt to kill me, so, no. Seems like thus far, Bucky’s back in business, and the Winter Soldier’s out of commission.”

“Good,” Clint nods, looking somewhat relieved. “That’s good. You’d tell me if he ever did regress, right?”

“Sure.” Kate blows gently on the nail she’s just finished before moving on to the next. “And you know what else? He never blinks. I don’t trust people who don’t blink on a regular basis. How do they do it? Who did they sell their soul to?” She gives the bottle a shake and goes to work on her toes.

Clint laughs. “Unless they’re elves, right? I seem to remember you not minding so much that Legolas never blinked in Lord of the Rings, but Frodo drove you nuts?”

“Elves aren’t human. They’re immortal. Blinking is like, a non-issue for them. Legolas gets a pass.”

“Your partner’s practically immortal,” the arrow slips from Clint’s fingers and he nearly catches it before it clatters to the ground. “Aww, arrow.” He squats down to pick it up. “Maybe you should give him a pass on the blinking thing too.”

Kate glares at him. “He’s mostly human, though. Like, can you really super-soldier-serum the blinking out of a person?”

He shrugs. “That sounds like science to me. Ask Bruce. Or Tony. They’d know, probably.”

Kate shakes her head. “I really don’t care that much. It probably makes him a better sniper, so, you know. Can’t argue with results. Even if the results-getter is totally freaky and slightly terrifying and a leeeetle bit super-hot.” She falls silent for a second, then adds, “And he smokes. Which is disgusting.”

“You got your shit done, though. Seem like a natural team,” Clint rocks to his feet with a groan. “And I’m sure if you asked him, he’d go outside to smoke and you wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Kate doesn’t look up from her toenails. “Well, yeah. We both possess basic competence. We’re effective, and we’ll continue to be effective. And I did ask him to go outside, and he does, but it’s still gross.”

Clint sinks onto the couch beside Kate and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, reaching for a slice of pizza. “So, like, now that you’re a team, what’s your team name? Buck-Kate Barnes? Kate Buck-shop? James Bu-Kate-nan Barnes?”

Kate’s eyes flicker up to Clint as he thinks for a moment, then suggests, “Buck-Kate-ham Palace? No, the Duke of Buck-Kate-ham.”

Clint grins. “Kate-3PO and Buck-2-D2.”

“BB-Kate and Buck Dameron,” Kate sets the nail polish aside and stretches her feet out beside Clint’s on the coffee table, picking up her discarded pizza and mulling potential team names as she chews.

“Meriadoc Brandy-Buck and Pere-Kate Took? Katie-grin Took?”  Clint considers this one, then grimaces slightly. “Barnes’ name works kinda perfectly there, huh? Yours is the one that fucks it up.”

“Shut up. How about… Kate-golas and… Buck-riel?” Kate’s teeth dart out to chew on her lip. “Shit. That one sucks. No, actually, I like Kate-golas. I’m keeping that. That one’s for me.”

Clint chuckles. “Good. Use it. Get it tattooed on yourself. It’s solid.” He sits up and looks around toward the kitchen. “You have beer here?”

“Fridge,” Kate reaches for the nail polish again. “It’s cheap shit though. Being pretty much an unsanctioned, unofficial Avenger pays, but not as much as being an _actual_ Avenger. Or so I imagine. And speaking of, I would like to file an official complaint and possibly also a lawsuit that both Bucky and _Peter Futzing Parker_ have Avengers IDs and I still do not. I mean, Peter’s still in school, and Bucky is a mind control risk. I’m being openly discriminated against and I’ve had enough. Look for me in the streets with a protest sign if HR refuses to act.”

“I don’t know what to tell ya, Katie-Kate,” Clint padding over to the fridge and sticking his head into the door. “I guess Barnes and Parker’s connections have more clout than yours.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kate scoffs, then glances up at the clock above the TV. “Hey, Dog Cops is on. You all caught up?”

Clint nods. “Put it on. Time for some quality Team Hawkeye bonding.”

Kate shakes her head. “Hawkeye Squared. Time for some quality Hawkeye Squared team bonding.” She grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “Did you bring me a beer?”

“I resent that question,” Clint snarks, passing her a bottle and dropping back onto the couch, settling in as the ‘Dog Cops’ theme begins to play.

 

 

* * *

When Steve asks Bucky, over burgers and the third James Bond film of the evening, how it is working with Kate, Bucky shrugs. “It’s fine. She’s a talker.”

Steve watches Bucky for a moment, then chuckles. “Time was you were pretty social, too.”

Bucky snorts. “Times change, buddy.”

“Don’t I know it,” Steve shakes his head slightly. “You wanna keep working with her? I can get you a new partner if you’d prefer.”

Bucky shakes his head. “She’s good. Young. Room to improve. But good. I can work with her.”

Steve nods. “Alright. I’m glad you like her.”

Bucky shoots Steve a look, but doesn’t refute his statement. He turns his gaze back to the TV and lets out a low whistle at the car on the screen. “You think everyone who works for the British government gets gear like this Bond guy? ‘Cuz I could defect again, for a ride like that.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t think I could come with you if you did that.”

“’Captain Britain’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” Bucky agrees, reaching for another handful of fries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I love you all, please leave me any thoughts you have at all!!


	4. Chapter 4

“So. Brazil,” Kate kicks her feet out across the row of empty seats beside her. Across the aisle, Bucky grunts in the affirmative. She stretches lazily, then lets out a groan and drops her arms. “Jeez, that’s tender,” she pokes lightly at her ribs, which a quick pre-shower inspection this morning had revealed to be a really quite impressive watercolor of purple and blue bruises blossoming over pretty much her entire right side. “Are you sore at all?”

They’ve fallen into a schedule over the past couple of months. Work out for two hours in the morning, then two hours of training together every weekday. Mondays and Wednesdays are for hand-to-hand sparring and martial arts; Tuesdays and Thursdays are target practice, and Fridays they take turns choosing different skills to work on, from motorcycle lessons to pickpocketing and picking locks to undercover and investigative work.

There have been two more missions since the first – another information grab, slightly more difficult than the first, and a hostage extraction. Both pulled off without so much as a flat tire. This is their first extended mission; they’re after a German arms dealer who’s been operating out of Brazil. The mission is pretty straightforward: locate and detain the head of the organization, confiscate his supply, and collect information about the rest of his network so it can be dismantled from the center outward. Simple.

Unfortunately, the orders were waiting for them Thursday morning as they met for training, which means a) no Friday lesson - they were going to work on escaping from different kinds of ties and handcuffs, and now they’ll have to put it off a week, and b) Kate’s still a little sore from kickboxing yesterday. But it also means c) yay, mission!

Bucky shakes his head in response to Kate’s question. “My bruises heal quicker than they form. Also you’d have to actually land a few good hits in the first place, if you wanted to leave any marks.”

Kate scowls. “I did land some good hits! Don’t be an asshole.”

“You got a couple,” he tilts his head to one side, studying her with a pencil sticking out from between his lips like a cigarette. “You can do better.” He tugs the pencil from between his lips and goes back to studying the case file.

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I can paint my toenails on the dashboard of a moving car. So suck on that.”

He snorts and gives a half-shrug. “You’ve got me there. That’s a skill I just don’t possess.”

“Maybe we should make that a Friday lesson,” Kate suggests, only half-joking. It’d be kinda fun to be the one doing the instructing.

Bucky nods. “Fine. We’ll pencil it in.”

“Good,” Kate grins, plugging her headphones into her ears and pressing play on her music before thumbing through the case file and settling with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out across the entire row of seats.  

* * *

 

“Fuck, it’s hot,” Kate complains for the millionth time, already down to her sports bra and yoga shorts.

They’ve spent the last two days in a tin can of a camper with one bed, a tiny kitchen, and a tinier bathroom and that is located, by Kate’s estimation, directly on the equator. It’s at least 90 degrees at any given time and the humidity is such that any air that might come in through the open window is so heavy and sluggish that it makes no difference. There’s a cooler in one of the windows, but every time Kate’s attempted to turn it on it just wheezes out a huff of warm air and emits a horrid rattling sound, so she’s given up on it for the moment.

There have been a few intel-gathering excursions to the nearby plant-slash-warehouse where their target seems to have set up camp, but they’ve only been for a few hours at a time, and it certainly isn’t any less miserable being hidden in the jungle in full gear and not being able to move for fear of being seen.

She’s draped over the bed, which has, by consensus, been stripped down to the fitted sheet; they’d tried sleeping on it at the same time the first night but it was too small and the body heat was killer and according to Bucky, Kate kicks something awful, so they sleep in shifts now. It’s supposed to be Kate’s turn to sleep right now, but it’s noon and hot as balls and she really just can’t.

“I’m aware,” Bucky grunts from the tiny chair at the tiny table that protrudes from the wall opposite the foot of the bed. “Take a cool shower if you’re so miserable.”

“You know that water’s barely room temperature and also, my hair still isn’t dry from my shower this morning,” Kate sighs. She rolls over to her stomach and studies her partner, who’s got his hair pulled up into a bun and is shirtless – and listen, these last few days may be the closest Kate has ever been to hell, but at least she’s got something nice to look at. “I can’t sleep.”

Barnes heaves an exasperated sigh and motions her over. “Well, come look at the plan then. I think it’s ready, and once we’ve got it down, we can call Fury and have him send the TAC team to back us up and pack everything up once we’ve got the information from Dietrich.”

“And then we can get out of this hellhole and go back to air conditioning?”

“Yup,” Bucky nods, and Kate is up and settling into the chair across the table from him before his lips have even finished forming the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“Show me, Master,” she leans over the map of the compound that’s spread over the table. Bucky leans forward as well, motioning to their point of entry and showing her where the backup team will be stationed. He traces out what he believes will be the quickest path inside the compound, and Kate listens intently until a drop of moisture falls onto the map. She glances up and finds herself maybe a few inches from Bucky’s shoulder.

It’s a damn fine shoulder, she can’t help but think, the skin smooth and tanned underneath the criss-cross of pale scars that lead into the cool metal of his robotic arm. Damn fine shoulder connected to a damn fine torso, muscular and toned and beaded with sweat. There’s another drop of sweat collecting on the inside of his collarbone and she has to clench her fist to stop herself from reaching out to swipe it away. They spend a lot of time together, but she doesn’t think they’re quite there yet. She presses her fingernails into her palm, bringing herself back to Bucky’s voice and focusing in on what he’s saying.

“You still with me?” He’s looking at her expectantly, and she nods and purses her lips together. “Mmhmm. Keep going.” 

* * *

Things had not gone particularly well thus far.

Bucky had found himself resenting the ease of their last few missions; maybe if they’d had at least a few hiccups in those, this one might have run just a little bit smoother. Their existing intel on the state of the compound’s non-human security appeared to be a bit out of date, and one of the TAC team guys had triggered an alarm just as Kate and Bucky had made it inside the door of the warehouse.

To say that all hell had broken loose would be an understatement.

There were sounds of a firefight outside, although on the plus side, it had at least drawn the bulk of Dietrich’s forces outside and made getting to Dietrich a fairly doable task. They hadn’t located his second-in-command, whom Kate had affectionately nicknamed “Der Kommissar,” but he was tertiary in importance to the computer hard drives and Dietrich himself. Bucky had interrogated the man while Kate had emptied his computers onto USB drives. They’d gotten him out of the building and to the tarmac, where they’d been immediately greeted by a massive blast, likely an RPG, just close enough to throw them out of the way of the actual blast. _Lucky_ , Bucky’s brain tells him over the buzzing in his ears as he rolls slowly to his feet and tries to locate Kate and Dietrich.

They’d been thrown back a dozen feet and both appear to be unconscious. Kate’s stirring; she pushes herself up slowly and with a pronounced wince. There’s a gash in her neck, it’s dripping blood. She says something. He shakes his head; he can’t quite hear yet. She glances around and reaches for her bow, crawls toward Dietrich. Bucky gets to his feet and moves to them, hoists Dietrich over his shoulder. Helps Kate up. She winces again, and his hearing’s back enough that he catches the tail end of her sharp hiss of pain. She’s hurt. Gotta get out, get to the airport. He can do first aid on the plane.

He turns to Kate and shouts, “We need a ride, we’ll meet the team at the airfield. Stay close to me, cover my back. I won’t be able to do as much with this guy’s dead weight.”

She nods, eyes wide, clearly still trying to focus. Her gaze flickers past him and suddenly she’s pushing past him and slamming her shoulder into the armed man behind him who had been reaching for Dietrich – his boss – to grab him off Bucky’s shoulder. The guy grabs her and spins her around, twisting her wrist and simultaneously delivering a vicious kick to her ribs. She hisses in pain but hooks her shoulder under his leg and uses the leverage to flip him onto his back, planting her foot on his neck and reaching down for his gun in the split second he’s laying there, stunned.

Bucky draws his own gun to dispatch of the man, but not quite quick enough – he grabs Kate’s ankle and twists it around with a not-inconsiderable amount of malice, throwing her to the ground, and Bucky fires a quick shot into his head just as he makes to get up to his feet.

Kate groans and gets up again, slower than before, cradling her wrist to her chest and clearly favoring her right ankle. She manages a pretty pathetic thumbs-up, and Bucky has to fight the urge to drop Dietrich and throw Kate onto his back instead. He’s gotta get her out of here before she gets herself killed.

The buzzing in Bucky’s ears clears a bit more and he realizes his radio is squawking. “At your two, Barnes!”

Bucky glances up in time to see three TAC agents approach them. “We’ve got it mostly under control out here,” the first agent says. “Take the intel, meet us at the airfield. We’ll wrap up here.”

Bucky nods. “Take him,” he heaves Dietrich onto the first agent’s shoulder. “Bishop’s injured, I need to get her and the intel out.”

“You’re injured, too,” Kate points out, motioning to an abrasion on his cheek. Bucky shoots her a look and shakes his head.

“We’ll cover you to that SUV,” the TAC agent replies, pointing to a black four-wheel drive a dozen yards away. “Drive like hell, and we’ll see you at the airfield.”

Bucky nods, then turns and sweeps Kate up in his arms and begins moving, carrying her, squirming, across the newly-wrecked tarmac of the compound. “Put me down, Barnes, I’m fine.”

“Your ankle is severely sprained, Bishop. Probably be better if it was broken,” Bucky grunts, easing her into the bloodstained passenger seat of the SUV and rolling his eyes as she attempts to bite back a wince.

“I can drive!” she insists, making to move into the driver’s seat. “I’m not broken – “

“No, but your wrist probably is,” Bucky pushes her away from the seat and slides in. “Possibly a rib or two. Not to mention the gash on your neck.”

He begins driving just as Kate snaps to attention and points frantically at movement in the distance. “Kommissar! Der Kommissar! Found him!” She reaches for her bow, then sucks in a sharp breath, wincing in pain. “Don’t worry, I got him.”

“Bishop, your wrist – your ribs – Kate, everything in your body is broken,” Bucky begins to argue.

“So what, I’m getting him anyway!” Kate snaps as she rolls down the window and leans halfway out, grimacing and muttering under her breath, “Futz futz futz – FUCK! Ow, shit, ow, ow, fuck,” She nocks an arrow and draws it back, “Fuckfuckfuck owowow fuck ow fuck shit goddammit ow motherfucker,” she ignores Bucky shouting at her to get back in the car and releases the arrow, which plants itself squarely in Der Kommissar’s right eye socket, sending him screeching to the ground just as they fly past him in the car. Kate slumps back through the window and into her seat. “Got ‘im,” she grins, a little breathily, buckling her seatbelt, “And you found it necessary to carry me to the car like some delicate little flower,” she sighs, then promptly passes out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!!


	5. Chapter 5

The beeping  of a pulse monitor is the first sound Kate registers when she wakes.

One eye pries itself open and she peers tiredly around at her surroundings. White walls. Green curtains. Hospital. Gross. Someone’s in the chair beside her bed. “Barnes? What the hell – where are we?”   

“Hospital in Manaus. I told you, you broke everything in your body, and your little stunt hanging out the car window certainly didn’t help.” He sounds peeved.

“Not everything, you said my ankle wasn’t broken – “

“But that it’d be better if it was. You sprained the hell out of it. Tore a ligament they had to go in and fix.” Now he sounds really peeved.

Kate stretches as much as she can considering the amount of plaster she’s wrapped in, then winces. “How long was I out for?”

“Full twenty-four,” Barnes growls. “Long enough for them to set everything and do surgery on your ankle.”

“And you’re still pissed?” Kate frowns. “I’m fine, I’m alive, Clint would’ve been over it by now.”

“I’m not Clint,” Barnes’ hands are tight around the arms of the chair. Kate wonders briefly, through the remaining haze of whatever drugs are working their way out of her system, whether that metal hand could actually break the chair if he gets mad enough.

“Clearly,” she rolls her eyes. “He’d’ve been impressed I made that shot from a moving car with a broken wrist. Not still pissed off about me doing something that actually helped the mission. I’m assuming our guys have picked Der Kommissar up by now? I know that wasn’t a kill shot, I don’t really do those.”

Oh. Yeah. The metal hand definitely can break the chair. That’s… only slightly terrifying. And definitely not hot at all.

Bucky tosses away the fragments of chair that shattered in his hand and stands. “Heinrich is in custody. We’ll be on a plane back to the US in the morning. You’ll be fine, casts off in six to eight weeks, back to active duty six weeks after that.” He turns to go.

Kate sputters, “Six – six to eight FUTZING weeks?! In casts?” Barnes keeps moving toward the door, and Kate calls after him, “And another six weeks – no. I’ll do it in three, Barnes! Back to active duty in three!” But he’s gone, stalking down the hospital corridor and presumably glaring daggers at anyone who dares to be near as he passes by. Dummy. 

* * *

 

“I hear you’re a royal idiot. Barnes says you pulled a hell of a stunt, hanging out a car window with every bone in your body broken to take a shot any guy on the TAC team could’ve.”

Kate rolls her eyes and adjusts the phone between her shoulder and her ear. “Yeah, he tells it wrong. What he meant to say is, I was mildly injured, but I still managed to take down the second-in-command of the whole operation from a moving vehicle with just my bow and without actually killing him. And then he says he’s impressed by my mad skills and proud to be my partner.”

Clint chuckles, but Kate can’t help but notice how tense Barnes’ shoulders are two rows in front of her; he’s obviously mad enough to have gone back to not sitting anywhere near her on the plane, like when they’d first started working together.

“—hear you’ve got a lot of recovery time ahead of you, so I’ll be sure to bring Lucky by, and some board games. I’ll see you when you get stateside, Katie-Kate.”

“See you stateside, Hawkeye.” Kate hangs up and stretches out as best she can, wincing as she accidentally tweaks her ribs. God, she hopes two and a half months isn’t long enough of a recovery time that they decide to replace her with someone else. She shuts her eyes, exhausted, and as she drifts off to sleep, she wills her bones to glue themselves back together with as much speed as is humanly possible, if not more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!!


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